Precarious
by Annalisse Rubisher
Summary: In which McGonagall commands, Harry is hopeless, Carmichael is mentioned, and Draco learns Muggles are weird. Written for dracoharry100, slythindor100, The Quidditch League Competition, and various HPFC Boot Camps. HPDM slash, eighth-year, and Christmas fluff!


**Title:** Precarious

**Beta:** CleopatraIsMyName

**Word Count:** About 2900

**Rating:** PG-13

**Prompts/Challenges:** Written for **slythindor100**'s 25 Days of Draco and Harry 2013 Challenge (Traditional Prompt, Hair Clasp [I thought of it as a Hair Clasp, leave me alone XD]), **dracoharry100**'s Christmas Challenge 2013 (Prompt #19, Mistletoe), the Quidditch League Competition (Prompt #s 4, Silver; #8, Truth; and #9, Patient), and various Boot Camp Challenges; this includes Favorite Character (Prompt #30, Shiny), OTP (Prompt #45, Patience), Favorite Era (Prompt #44, Strange), Favorite Hogwarts House (Prompt #48, Tempting), and Slash/Femmslash (Prompt #10, Gift).

**Warning(s):** Swearing, Eighth-year (not implied, surprisingly), fluffehness, and a _total _misuse of Muggle holidays XD

**Disclaimer:** This work of fiction is in no way connected to the author of Harry Potter, JK Rowling. Harry Potter is owned by her, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

* * *

Patience was never Draco's strong suit.

That was the first thought in his mind when Headmistress McGonagall virtually commanded him to tutor Potter in Potions. Professor Snape, in his portrait, had this terrible grimace on his face, and later Draco heard that it was really Dumbledore that had suggested Draco help Potter with his Potions work.

Being in his eighth year, having returned to Hogwarts after being acquitted of the charges of Death Eater activities, Draco knew that the entirety of it was to, not only give them back the seventh year they hadn't had the chance to enjoy, but to also get them the chance to properly study for their NEWTs. So, of course _Perfect Potter_ wanted to earn his NEWTs the proper way, instead of using his bloody fame to get what he wanted.

When Draco arrived at their assigned classroom, and found that the Gryffindor Golden Boy hadn't bothered to come in at time, it grated on his patience. It was like a tiny, fragile piece of damp parchment. One false movement and it would break apart, and with it Draco's patience.

Ten minutes later, and the blond was already gathering up the supplies that had been laid out on the table to leave. Screw Potter and everything related to the git.

Just when Draco had his messenger bag slung over his shoulder, the door to the classroom swung open, and Potter dashed into the room, nearly losing his balance in his haste. The brunet's head rested on the cool surface of the desk as he bent over it, and panted slightly. Once he had caught his breath, he glanced over at Draco and said the one thing the blond hadn't expected:

"I'm sorry."

Draco paused and cocked an eyebrow. "What?"

"I know this is weird, but I am sorry I'm late." Potter lifted his head, and Draco noticed a drop of sweat slide down his his forehead until he wiped it off negligently with his sleeve. "I was held back by a couple new faces on the Quidditch team, and they wanted a few tips on their flying. It took a while before I could leave, and now here I am."

Draco was thoroughly unimpressed with his excuse, and even showed it with a yawn. "You've wasted enough of my time. Let's just get this over with."

To Draco's irritation, it only made Potter chuckle.

"What are you on, some sort of Muggle concoction? That wasn't a joke. I'm irritated, and have waited for you, doing a favour for McGongall, and Dumbledore by extension. I have better things to do than help you with your abysmal Potions work."

"Whatever, Malfoy," Potter shook his head in a show of exasperation.

Once they had settled at the table, Potter whipped out his textbook and looked up at Draco expectantly.

"So, what are we doing?"

Draco sighed and rubbed his temples in the hopes of chasing away his impending headache.

"What specific areas do you need help with?"

"The truth?"

"Does it _look_ like I want you to lie to me?"

Potter sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, before stating, "Everything."

"Everything?"

Potter nodded his head, and Draco felt his patience snap.

"You complete and utter moron!"

"Well, it's not as if I could learn in a class where the professor hates me," Potter's demeanour finally cracked, and Draco felt all the more glad for it. Let the sodding git get angry, as well.

"So, you expect me to teach you everything from scratch?" Draco clenched a fist and exhaled through his teeth steadily and slowly. Once he felt he had calmed down well enough, he looked at Potter and said, "Okay, okay. Let's start on something basic. Do you know the correct ways to stir, and with which instruments?"

When Potter only tilted his head and shook his head, Draco laughed desperately.

"Oh, dear Merlin, help me..."

Potter's unfortunate shrug only made the situation seem all the more hopeless to Draco.

As the weeks passed on, the task seemed to get easier and easier. Potter was desperate to understand the subject a lot more than he previously did, and though he wasn't the most compatible wand in the shop, he was eager, nevertheless.

They kept their familiar ritualistic banter; however, without the pressure of friends and expectations to push them down, Draco found they had a lot more in common than just a mutual dislike and a grudge held since first-year.

Potter's work ethic, though, never changed. He was still lazy, still antagonistic, and had absolutely no respect for the others around him; in this case, Draco. How the late Professor Snape had managed not to strangle the infuriating git for so many years was beyond the Slytherin.

One day, Potter burst into the room, not much different from their first tutoring session, a smile bright on his face. As he walked closer, Draco could see a parchment gripped tightly in a fist in his right hand.

"Look, Malfoy!" Draco frowned as Potter's parchment was shoved in his face, and slapped the brunet's hand away.

"How about you hand it to me like a normal person, instead of waving it around in my face?"

Potter rolled his eyes and said, "Like you can be considered a _normal_ person, Malfoy."

Draco sniffed in offense, taking the parchment from Potter and reading it over. It was results from Slughorn's latest test, and presented significant improvement in his overall knowledge. Lips quirking upwards, Draco struggled to school his expression into one of smugness, instead of the overwhelming pride he felt for Harry's accomplishment.

"It could be better."

Harry, however, clearly seemed to have read the pride on his face when he scoffed, "Yeah, sure, Malfoy."

Draco's eyes narrowed and his mouth pursed. "Shut up, and open your textbook. You'll be looking over failed potions in history, and figuring out the reasons why they failed in the first place."

A few minutes later, Harry called out, "Malfoy?"

Draco looked up from his latest Potions essay and glanced over at Harry. To his consternation, the other teen had his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. Draco had to force his eyes to stay trained on Harry's own emeralds.

"Yes, Potter?"

"Does the term 'failed potions', include something like this?"

Draco walked closer, and leaned over the raven-haired teen's shoulder. Harry's finger was trailed right below a line that spoke of _Baruffio's Brain Elixir_.

"Isn't that the potion that utter twat, Carmichael, was trying to sell the first-years during our fifth year, swearing to Merlin and above had helped him to achieve his nine OWLs?"

Harry nodded his head, and Draco stifled the urge to rub his chin against the dishevelled head of hair. How could a hippogriff's nest look so soft?

"Maybe you could use it, Potter," Draco strode to his safe side of the table, away from Harry and his tempting hair. "It may help you make a higher grade in Divination than you do, now."

"And how do you know I take Divination?"

"Please," Draco scoffed. "I was in that class for a few weeks before I begged Professor Snape to allow me to switch to a more practical class."

"Arithmancy?"

Now it was Draco's turn to be suspicious. "May I redirect the question towards you, and ask how you know what elective class _I_ take?"

Harry's head hit the table with a thump. "Hermione takes the subject, as well, and it takes hours before she can bear to stop speaking about how '_Utterly fascinating it is, Harry_.'"

Draco snorted and shook his head, frowning when a few stray strands of long hair caught in the middle of his forehead. Huffing, he separated them from his fringe and smoothed them back into place. When he glanced back up, he saw Potter focussing rather hard on the textbook in front of him, and Draco swore the teen had looked in his direction.

Realising how silly the mere thought was – after all, Harry wouldn't be looking at _him_ in that way, everyone knew he was going to end up with the Weasel chit – Draco turned back to his essay and told himself he wasn't disappointed in the least.

With the months that went by, came the inevitability of Winter Hols. Despite having been cleared of the charges of being a _former Death Eater_, though Draco found it hard to think of it that way with the taint of the Mark forever on his left arm, it didn't mean that his mother was any happier, or his father any less of a resident of Azkaban.

Knowing his tutoring sessions with Harry – dammit, Potter, when had he slipped into calling him Harry in his head – would be temporarily adjourned until the end of break, Draco decided he would use his time in the room to study up a lot more than he had been, before. This was to no fault of his own; if Potter hadn't been in the room and thoroughly distracted him with his mere _Golden_ fucking presence, maybe Draco wouldn't be using his free time to catch up on his work.

It was to Draco's complete surprise when he realised Ha-Potter had beat him there.

"Potter?"

Potter lifted up his head, and his sudden smile nearly blinded Draco in its brilliance. Shaking his head, the blond did his best to clear his mind of those odd thoughts, and concentrated on what the brunet was saying.

"-thought it would help me a bit more to get more studying in, before heading to the Weasleys' for Christmas."

"Christmas?" Draco questioned, eyebrow quirked in confusion.

"Yeah, Christmas. You know, the holiday where people give each other presents, and spend time together with family and friends?"

"I know _vaguely_ what bloody Christmas is, Potter," Draco sputtered, unfamiliar heat rising to his cheeks. "My family just doesn't celebrate it."

"Oh," Harry muttered, hand running through his raven locks. Draco's hand twitched, and he stamped down on the temptation. Draco arched an eyebrow, when a soft alarm rang. Potter quickly gathered his things, and gave a muttered farewell.

When he was finally alone, Draco glanced around the room and opened his textbook with a shrug. Let Potter be strange by himself.

As the end neared, so did Draco's thread of patience. It seemed the longer Potter stayed away, the more irritable Draco became. Everyone in the Slytherin common room avoid as if Draco had contracted some form of the Muggle Plague. It was nice to know that Potter's leave had such a spectacular effect on Draco.

* * *

"Draco, pass the strawberry jam over?"

"How about you get off your lazy arse and get the shit yourself, Zabini?"

"Testy, testy," Zabini clucked his tongue, before reaching over Draco to get the jam himself.

"Oi," Draco yelled, shoving the other wizard away from him and onto the seat. "Might want to try and get the jam, next time, without rubbing yourself all over my back."

"How about you give it to me when I ask, then?"

When Draco opened his mouth to retort, someone from the vicinity of the Gryffindor table yelled, "_Mail_!"

Shaking his head at the stupid ways of those Bloody Gryffs, Draco ignored the stream of owls and instead concentrated on the food in front of him.

A nudge on his shoulder alerted him to the owl that landed on the table, unsteadily. It was a completely pathetic owl, and Draco wondered why it was bloody kept anyway. Leaning over, Draco swiped a bit of bacon from Blaise's plate, ignoring the teen's outraged cries, and fed it to the owl, untying the post from its leg.

Draco left the gift on the table, choosing to look over the letter attached to it first, instead.

_Dear Draco,_

_So, after hearing about you not knowing about Christmas, of all the holidays. Well, vaguely, really… I decided to show you a bit of, what we Muggles like to call, "Holiday Cheer"._

_I hope you like this. When I saw it, I knew that it fitted you perfectly: pompous, silver, and shiny. Along with a few extras._

_Yours,_

_Harry Potter_

Puzzled, Draco re-read the note and snatched the gift from Zabini's sticky fingers.

"How about you get your own present?"

"Who is it from?" Zabini moved to pick up the note, as well, and Draco slapped his hand away. "Fine, have it your way."

Draco carefully unwrapped the gift and took off the cover, boggling at the things he found inside: three candy canes, a small black box, holly berries, mistletoe, and an odd, wooden figure with a jutting jaw line. Draco ignored everything else in favour of the peculiar thing, and played with it a bit.

"Is that a nutcracker?" a girl sitting across from him asked. Draco arched an eyebrow and shrugged, an elegant roll of the shoulders. She eyed it hungrily, and Draco handed it over.

"What does it do?"

"It's in the name," she smiled, picking up a large, unopened nut from the tray in front of her. The girl, a Hufflepuff if her tie didn't broadcast it loud enough, placed the nut in its mouth and shut the jaw with a wooden lever protruding from its back, in the shape of the tail of its red coat. Draco heard a sharp _crack_, and the girl set the nutcracker aside, displaying the nut and its former shell.

"See?"

"Yes, I see." Draco nodded his head, taking the toy away from her and placing it back in its box. He inspected the rest of the things within it, the girl giving explanations for them all, "_The mistletoe is used by Muggles very often. They like to hang it from doorways, or ceilings, and when two people step under it, they must kiss each other before they can walk away. It's a strange tradition, and I'm not very sure where it comes from," _or "_Muggles eat those peppermint stick-like sweets and often use them as decorations."_

All Draco could deviate from her explanations was the simple thought: Muggles are weird. When he got to the small box, she got quiet, as did most of the table, the nosy sods. Putting everything away and replacing the top, Draco bid them an _adieu_ and headed to his room. Once he was alone, and safe from prying eyes, the blond reopened the box and picked up the satiny, black container within it. Gulping, the alabaster-skinned wizard opened it up slowly and blinked at the object within it.

It was a silver hair clasp. Connected to it was a torch, atop of a red ruby. Below it lay a sword, surrounded by a pair of dragons. Chuckling at the sheer _ponciness_ of the object, Draco stood up from his bed and walked over to the nearest mirror, pulling his hair back and finishing it off with the new fastener. Grinning at himself in the mirror, Draco decided he absolutely needed to repay Po-fuck it, _Harry_.

* * *

"Malfoy!" Harry opened the door to the classroom, glancing from side to side. Stepping within the room, he squinted and wondered just _how_ one turned the lights on and off in Hogwarts.

A muttered phrase from the corner of the room, and it was suddenly bright with light. Harry closed his eyes at the sudden rush, and blinked a few times to get accustomed to the change. Once he was sure he could look without having to close his eyes, Harry glanced around in confusion, before his eyes landed on Draco's lithe form.

Draco stood a few paces in front of him, a gift in his hands. Walking closer, Harry smiled hesitantly, "What's going on?"

"Well," Draco was uncharacteristically flustered. Harry could see the gleam of the hair clasp as the blond shook his head. Draco cleared his throat before raising his head and shoving the container into Harry's hands.

He beamed in surprise and glanced up at Draco for a second before ripping open the jade-green paper – but, of course – and flipping the lid, placing it on the bottom of the box. A single piece of folden parchment lay within, milky white with the design of a Christmas tree. Smiling bewilderedly, Harry unfolded parchment slowly and read the words:

_Look above you._

Harry slowly lifted his eyes up to the ceiling and his emerald eyes widened at the mistletoe, hanging precariously from the inside lining of the room. His eyes locked onto Draco's and he took a hesitant step forward, his head moving closer to Draco's. Their noses bumped gently, a laugh escaped their mouths, and their lips met in a tender kiss.

"Happy Christmas, Harry," Draco smiled beatifically. Harry ducked his head in happiness, before lifting it up and tangling his arms around Draco's neck. As their lips brushed again, Harry murmured, "Christmas past three days ago."

Draco brought his head back and looked at Harry sceptically, "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Harry laughed. "I'm not lying. It did. I'm very sure of it."

"Well, then this is a happy. _Late._ Christmas. For. You," Draco punctuated every word with a kiss, the length increasing as the number did, and Harry felt that this was the best _Late Christmas_ he ever had.

* * *

**Author's Note**:

To be completely and truly honest: this was totally fun to write. I have always wanted to write a tutoring fic, just like my last animagus fic (though I struggled on maintaining the maximum word count), and hope you guys enjoy this as much as I did :D I may have gone a bit fast, but I wasn't sure how to get them at the right places. Silly Harry and Draco XD

And that friggin' clasp D; My descriptions are pretty terrible. Maow.

Please leave a review? It's okay if you don't ^~^


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